This Cannot Happen
by Elsie girl
Summary: Snow wants to ruin Katniss' image for the rebels by breaking up the Capitol golden couple. But that's not all. He also has plans for poor Peeta's broken heart... and another girl from Panem. There's still a reaping to go, and you will not believe whose name is called. Gale, Katniss, Peeta, OC.
1. The Visit

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. I write this only for entertainment purposes.

A/N: Here is my first ever Hunger Games fanfiction. I do adore the story, but I've always sort of fancied Peeta with someone better suited to him. If you are a die hard Peeta/Katniss fan, you have been warned. This is just another way things could have gone. I also was not a huge fan of the quarter quell idea suddenly appearing in book two, though I did like book 2, so I took it out. Much of the events will be the same starting about the same time Catching Fire picks up, but with a few major changes.

This first chapter moves fairly quickly.

I'd love you for you to give this a shot and review. Thanks!

* * *

Chapter One: The Visit

"This cannot happen." President Snow clarified. His tight smile and calm demeanor never wavered. "_She_ cannot be seen to have outsmarted the Capitol." He pointed to Katniss Everdeen as the assistant brought him his tea.

"Love cannot be stronger than our Unity. Romance is not more important than Order, than security, than unification. If something good stands up against us, then we are seen as bad. We are guarding people; we are wise for them, strong for them. We do not need any rash, star-crossed teenagers giving people ideas."

"That's not a problem." Peeta's kind voice was the first to respond. "We aren't even really in love." He explained.

It was not his usual tone, though. He tried to keep it hollow- not cold, but empty and polite- when Katniss was around. She noticed. She couldn't look at him, not after she hurt him the way she had.

It was strange, having shared everything they had, to be even more distant from Peeta than before the games. Before, their paths had crossed here and there, but she didn't know him. Not really. After the games, he was, in some ways, the only person who did know her. But since she had told Peeta it was an act, a chasm had formed between them. An icy one. And though neither seemed to like it on their landscape, neither knew what to do about it.

There had been a few times, like when the peacekeepers first arrived, that he had been there to stand up for her, lying for her when she was caught with her prey. Or when the minor mine collapse sent her into a panic, the noise like an explosion, he had calmed her down. He appeared from nowhere, holding her back until Gale emerged. When one little girl feinted in the street, her hair around her head reminding her of Rue, Peeta's voice had brought her back from the games.

But most of the time, he seemed to be avoiding her.

Gale listened; he tried to understand. He picked up the pieces and was more brazen with feelings, even if she was not sure he could return them yet. Watching her kissing Peeta had been hard on him. He did not want to hold back and leave any room for doubt about her mind. When Peeta had seen Gale kiss her as they came out of the woods, his face had been pale and blank.

It was at that moment before President Snow as well, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in worry, and he refused to glance sideways at her.

Snow watched them, swallowing his tea in an unsatisfied fashion. "That's not good enough." He shook his white head. "Not nearly good enough. Then it's worse, an act in defiance of the games rather than desperate love, games that have been in place as important reminder of our past for three quarters of a decade!" His voice grew firm. He leaned forward, the elbows of his suit touching the table in Katniss' house.

"So here is what is going to happen. You two are going to break up."

"Done." Katniss replied defensively. They caught each other's sideways glance for a split second.

"No, no. You are the image, Ms. Everdeen."

"Image?" She asked, not understanding.

Snow considered her a moment. He turned nonchalant again as he explained. "You have no way of knowing this, but since your stand with berries, there have been uprisings."

"Uprisings?" Katniss caught her breath.

"In a few of the districts." He shrugged it off.

"In Rue's?" She blurted before she could stop herself.

He did not answer that directly. "We need them to see you were not subverting the government. We need them to see you as a silly girl, Ms. Everdeen, who was and is concerned with only with herself."

"Do you really think making Katniss look bad and us look broken up will fix the problem?" Peeta asked innocently.

Snow leaned back in his chair. Well, it was Katniss' chair, but Snow seemed to claim what he sat in and where he walked, reminding the residents of Victor Village it was all his anyway, given to them by the Capitol in exchange for their assets, and occasionally their children. "Do you know what will happen if we do not?" He challenged, still calm and almost amused. "Fighting. More Peacekeepers in the districts, tighter security. Burned fields, wrecked cities, strikes which mean higher prices on food, which means less food. Is that what you want? Is that what you intended to start?"

"What do you want me to do?" Katniss asked determined.

Snow began fiddling with something at the desk, not looking up as he spoke. "My sources tell me you have already found love in your district with a miner, yes?"

She straightened up, not answering. Peeta did not seem to respond at all.

"It's good." Snow reassured them. "It's good you have fallen for your own type of people, not our star victor, but someone from twelve who does the work of twelve. We'll let people see that. We will let them feel sorry for our Capitol's favorite." He held up his hand, indicating Peeta.

"And?" Katniss asked.

"That is all, for now." He tilted his head. "Do you think you can do that?"

She nodded.

Peeta inhaled. "I'm not going to make Katniss out to be some sort of… cheater. It wasn't like that."

"You can be tight lipped about it." Snow told him. "You can even be nice; it will make them like you more. Just look heartbroken."

It took him a minute to reply. "Yeah." He said sardonically. "I think I can manage that."

* * *

"You can't." That was the last reaction she ever dreamed Gale would have to the plan.

"What? Gale, what do you mean I can't break up with Peeta? I'm not with Peeta. I'm with—I mean, I thought you wanted…" She blinked.

Gale took her by the shoulders. "Katniss, this is bigger than us. What you did made people think about the games—no, more than that, Katniss, you got them to feel. And when people are too busy or hungry or spoiled or distracted or scared to think… they can still feel. What happened in there with Rue and everything." He struggled. "It made a difference, Katniss. If you go on tv and trash your image, part of that chance at rebellion, at hope, is trashed too."

"But Gale, the peacekeepers are already ruining things here. There will be more of them if this keeps up, and less food, fires, executions, war… you don't want that, you can't." She shook her head.

"That's exactly what they are counting on us to think, that it's not worth it. That if we try, they will make it so much worse for us. Fear is how they control us, just like the games."

She cut him off just as he got excited. "You don't know what you're asking for. Gale, I've seen that."

"No, you've seen kids forced to kill each other for entertainment. That's not the same as fighting for a cause."

"Death is death, Gale. Death in the mines, death in the arena, death in war. And what about last time? District 13 is gone now, and everything the same. What if next time it's District 12?"

He was silent a minute, the birds cooing in the trees the only sound in their patch of green hill they risked visiting while the peacekeepers were busiest.

"And the games?" He asked at last, the setting sun hitting his eyes. "They continue forever? We just give up our kids one at a time instead of risking it all, like some sort of sacrifices to the gods." He scoffed throwing up his hands. "Snow the god. That's what he thinks he is, Katniss. And maybe he's right. If no one will stand up to him or question him, not even you." He added quietly: "What if next time, it's Prim?" He leaned forward, his nose almost touching hers.

Fear flashed across her face, chilling her. "I'll volunteer again."

"And if you die, and it's Prim again?"

She looked away. "Maybe there's another way. Maybe there is something else I can do."

* * *

"What were you thinking?" Haymitch demanded as soon as they were alone.

"I didn't know they were going to kill him!" She shrieked. "I swear I didn't know. I was just thinking about Rue and Peeta had—" They could hear the chaos erupting outside in District 11. More shots were fired. There were yells. It was exactly as President Snow warned it would be.

She was just trying to apologize for Rue, for everything. She was not trying to start anything. Tears stung her eyes.

"Just stick to the cards next time." They told her. "Just stick to the cards."

She did, though it was not easy, and it did not seem to help. The people were not interested in hearing the anthem or the hollow words of praise to Panem. They did not care for their stiff smiles, or seeing the victor's fine, new clothes. They eyed Katniss warily, some saluting her and being beaten for it, some screaming at her to speak out, not from the cards. For their own sake, she did not, but she found it increasingly harder to smile. Even thinking of what Gale would think to see mockingjays hidden and vandalized along their journey could not lift her spirits completely.

Even Effie's false cheer wavered as they finally arrived in the Capitol for the ball. Peeta and Katniss remained friendly, but he did not touch her more than was necessary. When she had nightmares, he woke her, listened. She almost asked him to stay the night, just so she could fall asleep peacefully, but she could not bear to see the look of pain it would give him, to lie right next to her knowing he couldn't have her.

"Never mind." She said instead. "Goodnight."

Cinna, at least, was a welcome face in the city. As usual, he seemed to understand everything. Katniss confided what she could in him before the interviews with the victors began and she had to put on his masterpiece of a dress.

"No more innocent little girl dresses for you." He said, putting her in a black number she was afraid was a little too sexy for her. "You're a force to be reckoned with, and it's time they knew it."

"Twirl?"

"Save it for the end." He winked. "It doesn't matter tonight what you have to say."

"How can you say that?" She puzzled. "That's all that matters."

"Everything you can't say, this dress will say it for you. I think," he eyed it affectionately. "It's my best work." He reached forward to brush her hair back as it was down, save a decorative braid that made her look, well, regal. Her face looked beautiful but fierce with its gold and black make up. "And it's all for you, girl on fire."

"Thank you, Cinna."

"Good luck." He smiled a tiny smile and slipped out for her to get changed.

"Katniss!" Effie hissed. "Hurry! Peeta is already on!"

* * *

Music blared over the screams of thousands of people, a sea of bizarre and bright colors applauding for the end of victory tour.

"Ladies and gentleman, they were everyone's favorite, and then they surprised us all by winning together. Tonight we have… the couple on their victory tour!

"First tonight, we have Peeta Mellark," Caesar annunciated every syllable of his name. "The baker's son from District 12. But this handsome, if unlikely, hero proved to us anything can happen in the games." He nodded at his own words as the crowd applauded. "Now Peeta, first you must tell me: what's life like since the games?"

"I've been very fortunate." Peeta said, not smiling brightly. "The Capitol has provided me and my family with everything we could need and want." He added. "It's been very nice living in Victor Village, and the tour here in the Capitol has been great. Everyone's so friendly." The people liked that.

So did Caesar. "Well." He joked with a tilt of the dead, laughing at his own humor. "Of course. Of course. But Peeta," he paused, becoming more serious. "Forgive me for saying, but you don't seem particularly happy."

Peeta laughed sadly, glancing down in a way that made the audience sit still with bated breath. "Well, the Capitol can't do everything."

Caesar glanced at the camera, then back to Peeta. "And how about things between you and your little lovebird! Ha ha!" The screens showed clips of their intimate moments from the games and shots of their happiness after the win.

Peeta smiled sadly but looked away from the screens.

"Uh-oh." Caesar sensed. "Now Peeta, you cannot possibly tell me, tell us," the host look properly horrified. "That there is trouble in paradise."

"Well," Peeta clapped his hands together, taking a deep breath.

"No, no, no, no." The crowd gasped and booed. "You can't do this to us. We have all been so happy for you, Peeta, our victors saved by their love! Oh, it's so perfect. You cannot do this to us. There simply must be a chance at saving it."

"Well, I'm not really doing it." A few people caught on. "Katniss found someone else."

If there was ever any doubt the people in the Capitol had a favorite victor, it was erased at that moment. The jeers and hissing coming from the crowd made Caesar frown and even give a little eyebrow wag of surprise as they expressed their distaste.

"No, no please don't." Peeta put up his hands, standing a little then sitting back down. "Please don't. It's—it's not her fault. Katniss and I are still friends, and I wouldn't want anyone to say anything bad about her."

"Oh!" Caesar clutched his chest dramatically. The crowd 'aww-ed', just as Snow had predicted. "There you have it folks, the best of men, the best of victors, and the recently single, it would seem." Caesar winked, and several shrill calls of enthusiasm came from the audience. "Peeta Mellark!"

* * *

A/N: I'm excited for this to get to the next part where things get interesting. Reviews welcome!


	2. The Reaping

**Disclaimer**: Please see previous.

_A/N: Thanks for reading and for reviewing (Gale Lover)! As I said, this chapter gets a little more into this plot... Hope you enjoy._

* * *

Chapter Two: The Reaping

"That was amazing!" Gale told her as she stumbled into his arms. Katniss had been back home in District 12 for less than twenty minutes. Nearly the moment the train stopped, she went straight to their spot, knowing, or at least hoping, he would be there. It was risky too, but she could not help it. After what happened in the Capitol, she need to see Gale.

The show was an utter disaster. She had never been particularly liked, but having a throng of people boo-ing her was a new form of humiliation. Caesar, being the stellar host he was, had salvaged the moment. He reminded the audience of her bravery and that quieted them down. He understood- or pretended to understand- that Peeta and she were different, and how seeing him reminded her of the games. That one boy at home had missed her more than any, a miner as Snow said. Caesar had all but convinced the people to be happy for her, since it meant Peeta was now free, when he had finished off the segment by showcasing her gown.

And then it had been a complete calamity. Although, Gale clearly did not agree.

As if the silent train ride was not bad enough, finally arriving home was even worse. Walking through town was surreal, people staring at her from a distance, sideways, not speaking, glaring, and whispering behind their hands. She needed away from their eyes.

Until she saw him smiling, arms open wide for a hug, she did not know how much she needed that too. "Dressing like the Mockingjay on live television." He lifted her up in the air by the waist and set her back down. "Everyone saw that, Catnip. Everyone! And the fire—girl on fire—it was perfect."

"Gale, people are already getting hurt in the districts." She spoke into his chest.

"What happened? What did you see?" He demanded, holding her by the shoulders and searching her face impatiently. Frustrated, her hot tears spilled over and down her cheeks. How could he be so excited by that news? Why couldn't he see how bad it was? There was blood and the kind of screams people made involuntarily when they were afraid. There were black, faceless peacekeeper helmets, a wall of them, deaf to cries and unstoppable.

She wiped the drops away as if they had offended her, but Gale softened seeing them. "Katniss, it's not your fault. It's Snow doing that. It's not your fault." He pulled her close again. It was warm there in his massive arms. He smelled like coal and like snow. She liked it.

"Just keep saying that." She mumbled as he swung them side to side. "What if Snow punishes us for this?" She asked at last, letting him go.

"What's he gonna do?" He laughed. It startled a few birds nearby. "Send us into the mines?"

"It's not funny." She swatted him hard.

Gale smiled, but continued. "Starve us? Oh, I know, make us volunteer our kids to these killing games. No, no one would ever do that." He said sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes and joined him for a quick hunt. Still, she knew she was right. Snow saw that Mockingjay dress as an act of defiance, and so would others. He was not likely to let that go.

Prim was happy to see her, even her mother was. If it was possible for a person to change more in a year than Katniss had, Prim had accomplished it. The girl was bigger and even prettier than before, but also calm and strong. She helped her mother and Katniss. She no longer wanted Katniss to walk her to school.

"So glad you're home." She hugged her sister. And that's why Katniss thought it might be alright to share a little bit of what was happening with the two of them. Not everything, but some of it.

"It will be alright, Katniss." Prim said when she was done. Her certainty took her elder sister off guard. Her mother did not look so sure. Snow was not done with them.

* * *

Peeta did not know what had happened. There was a commotion; people fleeing the area of town that was usually full. Haymitch popped in the bakery; he wasn't stumbling. "Something going on the in square." He went that way.

Peeta followed, finding a crowd of horror stricken people standing around the edges. There was shouting up ahead, but Peeta stopped to help a crying child. The kid had a painful welt on the arm he was cradling and spot of blood on his face. He wiped it off as Haymitch went on ahead towards the sounds of a whip and groans of pain. The young victor was not eager to see what lay ahead. He picked the kid up, calmed him, and then sent him off in the direction of Katniss' home for help from her mother and sister.

With a deep breath, he proceeded into the square.

He arrived just in time to spot Gale Hawthorne tied to a post. He was not surprised. Gale was strong willed, and feigned no like of peacekeepers. He was shocked, though, when he saw a flash of black hair as a smaller figure fell back when the peacekeeper struck her: Katniss.

He wished he could stop himself, but he it did not even occur to him. He knew he was outnumbered, but he was also strong and determined. There was a crowd watching too, he reasoned. They wouldn't stand by for three murders, would they?

Haymitch stepped in before he could get there; he spoke, and a gun was drawn right into Haymitch's face. Peeta knew Haymitch was not a diplomatic speaker. The man had probably said something to make it worse.

He rushed forward and tried to intervene, hoping to calm the situationHe put himself in between Katniss and the armed man as quickly as he could, but Haymitch pushed him back.

His own eyes shot to Katniss, to the mark on her face. But she was standing like a lioness guarding Gale, her eyes on the peacekeeper. It was her games face, Peeta knew. She was calculating.

Peeta glanced down at the other boy. His injuries were severe, his back looking like a half skinned animal. They needed to get him out of there. Katniss had been right to act.

He was jealous, wondering both what Gale had done to bring it on and how Katniss would have reacted if it were there bleeding and trembling. But there was little time to think. The man was shouting threats, but Haymitch's fast talk had freed them. They got Gale loose, and Peeta helped carry him to Katniss' home.

He helped Prim gather snow, then went off to get some herb from the shop for the healers. Anything to get out of there. He felt sorry for Gale, yelling in so much pain. But he also felt sorry for himself, watching Katniss cry over the other man. He made himself scarce.

When he brought in wood late that night, Katniss was still at Gale's side as he slept on the table, thanks to drugs. She was startled when she heard Peeta drop a log into the fire.

"Thanks, Peeta." She said.

"You're welcome." He somehow managed, hastily leaving behind the moment he had interrupted. When she kissed Gale, he told himself, it was _not_ an act.

* * *

Katniss tugged open the door, surprised anyone would be out that late in that weather. "Peeta?" She asked in surprise. He stepped inside, wind howling behind him. He rubbed his arms for warmth as some snowflakes followed him inside Haymitch's house. "What are you doing here?" She asked. He wasn't carrying thoughtful firewood. He was there for something else.

"What are _you_ doing here?" He asked looking from a drunk Haymitch and a table of booze to her and back. Katniss was not proud of it, but she had been sitting with Haymitch participating in his favorite form of therapy. It helped her sleep. For days, it seemed, after Gale she did not sleep, and when she finally did there were the nightmares. She did not answer, but he clearly guessed her reason. Surprisingly, Peeta did not scold her.

"I needed to talk to him, but it's good you're here too." He said instead.

This surprised her too. Hadn't Peeta been avoiding speaking to her at all? "It is?" She asked.

He only nodded. Again, he avoided her eyes, walking past her to Haymitch and attempting to wake him up gently. It was not very effective, so she took over and doused him with water making him jerk to, flailing and shouting obscenities.

"Oh." He caught his breath and wiped his face. "Peeta. It's you. I take back what I said about your—"

"Hey Haymitch, I, uh, need to talk to you."

"Ok, want a drink?" He offered, reaching for one.

Peeta sat. "Maybe later." He said pushing the bottles away from them both.

Haymitch looked disappointed, but got the hint. "Sweetheart, care to leave us alone a moment?" Their mentor prompted.

"No, it's okay." Peeta said, still looking at Haymitch. But whatever he had to say, he clearly wanted her to know. He drew a deep breath. They waited. Peeta looked at the floor then up, announcing: "The Capitol in their generosity," his tone was anything but sincere. "Have decided to try to mend the broken heart of their victor."

"And how do they propose to do that?" Haymitch asked carefully.

"This year, at the reaping, a name will be taken from each district of a girl who is of fitting age and the like and will be drawn at random… for me."

"They are pairing you off with someone." Haymitch repeated, unimpressed.

"And I have to go along with it to show I trust the Capitol's judgment completely." He finished.

No one spoke for a moment.

"This is my fault." Katniss said, looking at the floor. "This is because of the dress, isn't it?"

"Katniss," Peeta began to tell her it was not.

She shook it off, not allowing him to say it. "It is." She protested.

"No, I think Snow planned this the whole time. Remember when he asked you to take the fall he said that was it 'for now'? He knew I'd never agree to this if he'd brought it up then. Now that you've already done your part, though, what else can I do? He knew that. We always knew he has something else in store."

She fell silent, knowing he might be right.

Haymitch spoke at last, slapping his thigh. "Well, look on the bright side, kid. She might be real good looking."

"I feel sorry for her actually." Peeta admitted.

"Sorry for her?" Katniss snapped, moving to another chair. "The girls will be dying to be reaped for this. You saw them at the interviews when they heard you were single."

"I saw them in the Capitol." He corrected her. "These are girls from the districts, being paired off with a complete stranger, a stranger they watched kill people." She had forgotten that. But Peeta he didn't really-I mean, that didn't count. "It's no more their will than the games are." He said darkly.

"She'll be lucky." Katniss said after a moment. His head snapped up with a heartbreaking look of hope. "To get you instead of the games." She clarified.

"What. A. Compliment." Said Haymitch.

"I can't do this." Peeta said, chin in his hand.

"You don't have a choice." Katniss shrugged, standing. She was not sure how she felt about it. She shouldn't feel anything, she guessed. She had no right.

"She's right." Haymitch said. "Unless you want to go up against Snow, your best bet is to take this poor girl under your protection. There are worse places than Victor Village." Haymitch took a swig, nodding to a forlorn Peeta.

"Yeah, like the arena." She scoffed.

"Like the arena." Haymitch agreed.

Peeta just stared into the fire.

"Poor timing though, isn't it?" Haymitch croaked. "Well, there's a real reaping coming up, don't you two forget it. Not a very romantic way to bond with your newly appointed girlfriend, training your tributes to try not to die in the arena."

Peeta's frown deepened.

"Relax. She'll probably be thrilled to be with you." Katniss tried. She agreed for the girl's sake it was unfair, being forced by the Capitol yet again. But they would be lucky to end up with Peeta instead of someone else. Peeta wouldn't be cruel to her. "Besides, it's not like Snow says you have to marry her. At least they aren't making them fight to the death over you."

Haymitch snorted at her joke.

"That's not funny, Katniss." Peeta's voice was level.

"Sorry. Just trying to make you feel better." Was it such a stretch though?

"Why?"

"That's what friends are for." She shrugged. She did not forget what he had done in the square for her and for Gale.

"Yeah. Friends." He said the words with disdain but nothing else.

"Even if we'd … tried." She defended. "Snow would have made us break up anyway."

"I guess." Peeta agreed. "This just feels wrong. First, I have to fight in the games. I don't get a say. I don't get to be with who I want to, and now I have to pretend to like this person."

"Try to like them." Haymitch offered. "You don't have many chances to meet girls around here. And in the Capitol they're a little…" He made a face.

"Yeah. I guess were are in the same boat." Peeta tried to laugh. "I can at least be honest with her. Make it easier for both of us." Katniss took that as her cue to leave. "Thanks, Haymtich. Katniss?" He stood.

"Yeah?" She hesitated at Haymtich's door.

"We are still friends, right?" He did that thing where he lowered his head but raised his eyebrows, that questioning look it was hard to say no to.

"Yeah. Of course."

"Good." He nodded. "I'd like that. I think we are all going to need our friends now." The wind howled outside.

* * *

"As always," Effie announced. "Ladies first."

From the glass, she carefully selected a name and pranced over to the microphone to read it to the stagnant audience assembled. She began as over enthusiastically as usual, but her voice faltered on the first word. "Prim—Primrose…Everdeen."

"That's not possible." Whispers buzzed.

"What are the odds?" People demanded to know.

"That's not fair!" Someone cried.

"Are they serious?"

"What?"

Prim, a bit older and much wiser, did not hesitate this time. The peacekeepers, ready to pounce, did not even make it to her before she had already started up towards the stairs. Katniss stood in place where the victors were positioned, near the stage. She had heard the name, or she thought she had, but she felt unable to move or speak.

It just was not possible. It was déjà vu. Prim's name was only in there twice. And she had been picked last year. She was dreaming this reaping. It was not real. It could not be.

She felt the eyes on her, but not until she saw Prim walking towards her— not until the image of Prim lying on a bed of flowers as her eyes closed for the last time swam to mind – did Katniss Everdeen wake up and step in front of her sister.

The peacekeeper shoved Katniss aside, nearly knocking her over. Peeta and Haymitch caught her. Katniss' arm stopped her sister's progress up the stairs.

"I volunteer." She said seriously.

"Can she do that?" Someone asked.

There were murmurs of: "Again?"

For a moment, everyone seemed to ignore her, pushing Prim further up the stairs. Her voice grew stronger. "I volunteer!" She panted, her whole body still stiff with fear. She would rather go anywhere than the arena again, rather do anything. "Again." She barely breathed.

Prim slowly shook her head in disbelief. There was nothing she could do. Katniss had volunteered, and that was that.

There was split second of pity for her younger sister, just then realizing she might bear guilt for this. But she could do nothing about it then.

"Well, you heard her." Effie hissed to the peacekeepers. They had to let her through then, though it clearly was not part of their plan. The plan…

Katniss tried not to vomit on her way up the platform. She had not had time to think what a martyr she would look to Snow, how brave for her cause she would appear, how angry that would make him. She just couldn't let Prim go or everything from before was for nothing. Everything she had done… for no reason at all. She could not let that happen.

She heard her name. "Katniss Everdeen." She saw the hands go up, the cameras refuse to show them.

It was time then for second name to be drawn.

"And for the boys." Effie announced with less excitement.

It didn't matter, Katniss thought, narrowing her eyes with determination. She tried to steady her trembling body, steel herself. Whoever it was, it didn't matter. She would get in and get out. She knew the game now. All that mattered to her was getting out and getting home, getting back to…

"Gale Hawthrone."

* * *

_A/N: Dun, dun, dun. So Gale and Katniss are both reaped for the Hunger Games. And what about this girl and Peeta? Things are going to get complicated._ _Please do take a second to review! They make my day. If you're interested, I'll post more soon, so let me know._


	3. The Girl

**Disclaimer**: See previous, please.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! Getting more interesting from here, I think. If you're reading, please take just a second to let me know what you've enjoyed. Makes my day!_

* * *

Chapter Three: The Girl

"I should have volunteered for him." Peeta paced the length of the room.

"They never would have allowed it." Katniss threw out at once, deadpan. She had already steeled herself after saying a quick word her sister and mother. _'I'm sorry. I love you. Take care of yourself,'_ was the sum of it. Her arms were crossed in the waiting room. She was mostly sure, but either way, she did not want Peeta torturing himself.

"I should have tried." He berated himself again.

"Forget it." Katniss snapped. Peeta paused.

Gale barged into the room at that moment. It appeared he had shoved his way past peacekeepers from his own waiting room. Somewhere behind in the hall that quickly disappeared stood his siblings. Katniss felt a pang seeing them. Gale had to live, she knew then. If Gale made it out, he would look after her family. So would Peeta and Haymitch. If she made it out, Gale's family would struggle. She was not sure she could survive the games or provide for them all if she did.

"If you had not volunteered again," Gale immediately told Katniss. "I could have protected Prim in the games."

"She was drawn first." Haymitch reminded him. He knew that. Gale was just angry at the situation. He scrunched his face in frustration, tightening and loosening his fists. She wished it didn't make his face look cute, the awkward way it went all young and sweet on such a large, sturdy body.

"You have to protect her now." Peeta turned on him, beseeching before Katniss could get a word out.

"I'm here, you know." She told them.

"Of course I will." Gale said, insulted.

Peeta nodded once. "Good. Then, we need to get started." He walked to the table where Haymitch stood. The eldest victor arms were folded as he watched the interaction through his curtain of messy hair.

"You have three mentors which is more than most," Peeta informed Gale who was pulling himself up to full height. "And you're big. That will help."

"Whoa. We are going to talk about this." Katniss protested.

"I don't need your help." Gale told Peeta flatly. Everyone in the room froze.

"Oh, come on, this will help save your life. Now is no time to be petty." Peeta said, losing his sweet demeanor the way he did when he was particularly annoyed.

Gale's head was down, his eyes harsh as his deep voice rumbled. "He used Katniss to save his own skin." He said with disgust.

"I used…" Peeta began, stumbling over the words, stunned. Gale took a step forward.

"Hey, okay, okay." Haymitch interrupted.

"Stop it. Stop it." Katniss told them both. "He's right, Gale. You will to listen to them, to all of us. You will have a whole team to help you win. And you will have your size and your hunting experience on your side."

"Katniss," He said plainly, shaking his head once, his lips pouting out as his eyebrows furrowed together as he approached her. "The only reason for me to even make it through the end is to protect you."

"No, Gale." She was firm, taking a step near him.

"It's not up for debate, Catnip." He told her, pinching her chin in his fingers. It infuriated her; he was almost smiling he was so pleased with his plan as he walked away.

"Gale," She began.

"Don't waste your breath." He crossed his arms against his chest, obstinate.

She strode across the room in a moment, her hand thumping his chest in desperation. "If you make it, you can look after my family. Even if I could win again, which I doubt especially with the number of people hating me at the moment, Snow included, I couldn't look after them all. It's not just about us!"

Gale and Peeta caught each other's eye a moment, exchanging a look that made her narrow her eyes. Haymitch too spotted it and took the cue to finally push his rump off the spot where he leaned on the wall. "We do have the disadvantage of him being the other man." Haymitch said, bringing their hope down a notch. He was right. It would be hard to get sponsors for the man that killed the victor's love in the eyes of the Capitol.

"But he's so handsome!" Effie sang, startling them all. "We will try to keep that quiet," She waved it off, taking a step towards her new tribute with each excited word. "But once they see him, they will love him!" She squeezed him by the biceps. "Trust me." Effie looked much happier with this potential than her past tributes, Katniss could not help but notice.

"Gale, let's have a talk." Haymitch clapped him on the back guiding him to the door that was opened at once by peacekeepers. "Gentleman." He slurred ironically as they passed them headed towards the train.

Peeta glanced at Katniss, a look he returned, and they headed that way too, following Effie in her bright outfit. It stood out against the more austere than normal district twelve and its soot and gloom.

"Gale has to make it out." Katniss said quietly.

Peeta looked at the gravel underneath their feet. "Katniss, you know I can't do that." He sighed.

"No you have to, Peeta." She stopped, turning to him. Peeta looks up, away, anywhere but at her. "You know I'm right. Snow won't let me win and even if I can, Gale's family will be…"

"Exactly, Katniss, you will have everything going against you the second you enter the arena. And you're basically asking me to help my tribute win and let him kill the girl I…care about." He finished lamely. "Besides, I have something else to worry about too." He reminded her, his voice sad. "We're about to bring another person into this misery."

"Snow is." She corrected.

"Yeah. Katniss," he stressed. "Right now there is a girl our age out there." He pointed off somewhere. "She just stood there like the rest of us, terrified of being reaped maybe of her family being reaped, hell maybe they were. And she's about to find herself leaving her home to be with me."

"I get that, okay?" She snapped, leaning closer. "But you have to help Gale. I've been in there before, and you know he'll help me."

"Only one person will come out this time; you know it."

"Peeta please." She begged.

His hands were in his pockets. "I can't. I'm sorry." He walked to the waiting train.

"Then Gale dies." She called after him. He did not stop. Well, she supposed, she could still do something.

* * *

Peeta sat across the dark, brooding man in the train car. They were alone, surveying the room over and over in awkward silence until Peeta broke it, trying again to offer his help. He had to do something, after all. "You know you could probably get something from the center at the beginning."

"Why are we discussing this?" Gale asked, opening his hands that rested on his knees.

Peeta snorted out a breath, answering slowly. "I just thought—"

"We agree Katniss has to win, right?"

"Right."

"Then, why are we talking?" He asked coldly.

Peeta leaned back. "Well, you will need to survive long enough to protect her."

"I'd kill for her Peeta."

"I know."

"I'm going to die for her."

"I know!" He whispered harsher. "I know, but it's not all size. You're going to need know about the games."

"I watch them every year."

"Watching and being there are different. Take what you can learn. Haymitch knows logistics and competition, Effie can get you sponsors. I can help too because I'm the only one that's going to be working for the same thing you are."

"Okay." Gale ran a hand over his mouth. "Okay." He gave in, sitting back as well with his big arms wrapped around himself. "What about you?" He reached his hand in Peeta's direction, clapping back against his own arm with a smack.

"What about me?" He asked, defensive.

"This business with this girl. Snow really forcing you into that?"

"Looks like it." He sighed. "I'm not the only one he's forcing."

"There are worse fates." Gale shrugged, not taking it very seriously either. Peeta guessed from what he knew of the other boy he'd lived near their whole lives, Gale would be more outraged about this idea and what it might lead to if they were not more pressing matters. That was probably no coincidence; Snow would be counting on it.

Something else occurred to him. Peeta looked skeptically at Gale. "I think that was a compliment." He blinked.

"Come on, the only thing I really have against you is we love the same girl. Maybe that will change." He added slowly.

"I don't think so." Peeta admitted as the compartment slid open, making them both move.

"Oh, it's just you, Haymitch." Peeta rubbed his thighs.

"Yeah it's _just_ me." Haymitch drawled, closing the door behind him.

"You know what I mean."

"Oh, I know what you mean alright. Glad to see you two are getting along."

Peeta picked at his meal as the train approached the Capitol. He couldn't eat. Katniss was going back into the games. He wasn't. Worse, Gale was. Gale was his responsibility; he knew exactly what that man was about to face, and he was going to let him die.

At that moment, sitting on beach somewhere or maybe perched in a tree, was a girl whose life was about to be ripped away from her as his had been. And he would sort of be responsible for her too.

He was not an idiot. He could sense as easily as the others did that something was coming. He had heard Snow, visited the districts himself. If the President of Panem was taking that much to offset it, the threat could not be small. He still was not sure why Snow was thinking of this plan.

Maybe it was worth it, to him, taking that girl's liberty away just to make himself look wise and benevolent. That shouldn't come as too great a shock. After all, he took a couple dozen children a year to please a crowd and make a point.

But there had to be something more.

Gale was not prepared for the Capitol. He gawked at their freakish clothing; jerked away from one woman who tried to pet him.

"Enjoy the best!" Effie waved proudly over the spread of food on their table in their rooms. Towers of sticky sweets, two meats on the table steaming hot, baskets of breads, a large silver bowl of soup. The smell of it after such a long day was making their stomachs growl. Effie scrunched her nose at the sounds but did not comment.

Gale glanced at them as if to ask if they were seeing the same thing he was. Peeta remembered this reaction. In the districts, they always thought of food as being scarce, but to see it in plenty in the Capitol was a shock. But Peeta had grown up around food. He was an only child. Gale's family had less and more to feed. The man had probably never gone a day in life without feeling at least a little bit hungry.

"Is this real?" Gale balked.

"And it's all for you." Effie smiled. "And Katniss." She added as an afterthought. Katniss rolled her eyes.

His anger was quick. "Incredible. People are starving in the districts, and this is a party. You didn't tell me about this Katniss."

"I didn't think it mattered." She said quietly. Of all the things to mention, telling him how much she ate was not the first or even hundredth thing to come to mind, Peeta figured.

"Of course it matters." He scoffed, shaking his head. "I'm not eating this."

"Just enjoy it for them." Peeta clapped the other guys back.

"Is that what you did?" He shot back.

The blonde did not appreciate it. "You aren't going to be much use if you're starving in the arena." He said.

Gale loosened up, and eventually Haymitch and Katniss had him laughing. When he wasn't arguing with Peeta, he could laugh at his jokes about the Capitol. Effie was pleased as usual. The food was good. He'd guessed several of the recipes he'd had there and given them a try back home. Peeta thought with a pang of guilt if the girl out there—that girl—was eating that night or if she was laying somewhere like Katniss had been that day he'd seen her. Outside in the rain. By the pigs. When he'd thrown her the bread.

* * *

"Tonight," Caesar announced in his usual theatrical manner. "Tonight," He repeated as the roar of the crowd died down. "We have something a little special, a little different than past years. Now, a few weeks ago we checked in with last year's victors, Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen the girl on fire. But many of you were distressed—no, heartbroken—to hear that poor Peeta was suffering."

He made a sad face, clutching his chest, as the clip of Peeta played where he admitted Katniss and he were just friends.

"Now, as much as we all love Katniss." He said solemnly. A few cries from the audience disagreed. "And we do, we do love Katniss, we all felt especially sorry for our charming, brave champion Peeta. So, ladies and gentleman," His voice grew soft. "Tonight, President Snow is his wisdom and in the spirit of charity and love, has set out to give us all a little happiness at this time when it can be so easy to focus on the dark, can't it?"

They applauded. "Yes, it can be easy to concentrate on the negative on fear and loss instead of trusting in Panem, in our leadership, in our future." Everyone was silent, not understanding. The lights had slowly dimmed in the room. "But being brave is not easy."

Sounds of agreement echoed.

"Being strong is not easy."

"No!" They chanted.

Caesar grew more enthusiastic. "The Games are never easy." Cheering. "But sometimes," He held them in suspense, "neither is love."

Lights came up at the end of the stage. Applause died instantly upon seeing a line of twelve girls. They were not as decorated as the tributes would soon be, but they were lovely. Some were smiling. Others tried. A few stood uneasy in place, gazing out on the lights and the sea of faces like startled deer.

_Backstage, the trio from twelve watched in horror. "The crowd doesn't know?" Peeta asked._

_"__Look at them." Gale leaned in, squinting. "Lined up like cattle."_

_"__I can't watch this." Peeta turned away just as Haymitch came over, munching on the olives that came in drinks. _

_"__See anything you like?" He joked, clearly already drunk._

_"__Wow." Katniss finally had a moment to sympathize. "The little one looks scared out her wits."_

_Peeta gave up trying to stay away, letting out a growl of frustration and taking his fingers from his mouth, returning to the screen. "Which little one? They sent a little one? What is he, crazy?"_

"Tonight, tonight!" Caesar held up his hands for quiet in the commotion and confusion. "Tonight, President Snow has taken these wonderful ladies, one form each district, and offered them the chance many of you can only dream of… in an attempt to assuage the pain from his recent trials, after all that he has been through, the Capitol carefully selected the perfect match for our very own Peeta Mellark!"

The Capitol erupted.

_"__They are going nuts." Gale watched, mystified. _

_"__Hang on; is that Siobhan Mordecai from 12?"_

_"__Have to be, wouldn't it?"_

"One lucky lady will be spending the Games with Peeta, and if things go well, who knows, maybe more…" He could barely be heard over the ruckus. Once it finally died down, Caesar opened an envelope.

"And that very, very lucky lady is…"

* * *

_A/N: Do review, please! Shall we vote? The girl shall be named: Tilda Whitley, Shanti Honer, or Mara Wessex. You pick._

_Other thoughts are welcome: What is Snow plotting? What is Katniss going to do in the arena? What do you most want to see/not want to see next? Please let me know._


	4. The Deal

Disclaimer: Not mine. Made no money from this. Please don't sue me.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reviewing and voting! Loved hearing from you all.

* * *

Chapter Four: The Deal

* * *

Three and half seconds: that is exactly how long Peeta Mellark had to look at the twelve girls, one of which he was about to be thrown together with. He had always been pretty good at math, and he figured that was less than one third of a second per girl. One third of a second was not even enough to make a first impression.

A few stood out. One was extremely fit, maybe from district one or two, a professional tribute. One had red hair. One was very petite and looked as if she might pass out—the little one, as Gale had pointed out.

It was worse than he had imagined. First, no one seemed to know what was going on. Either these girls weren't the least bit interested in being thrown at him, or they had no idea what was about to happen to them, and given the fact they looked more like they were about to reaped than dated, he guessed it was the latter. Peeta thought the girls who entered knew what was going to happen, maybe even some of them had volunteered in hopes of meeting their crush, though they might be weirder and he might disappoint them.

In addition, the crowd seemed to have no idea this was going on in the districts, that girls were being brought there or why. This was all a big publicity stunt, to get attention on something other than the games controversy, he realized with disdain. Meanwhile elsewhere in the Capitol, tributes tried to ready themselves for training to begin.

Peeta felt as if he might vomit.

The audience, on the other hand, could not be more pleased. The applause thundered so loudly Caesar had to shout twice to be heard. "And that very, very lucky lady is: Tilda Whitley of District 9!"

* * *

Tilda Whitley heard her name called somewhere off in the distance by that familiar voice she had listened to on the screen so many times. It was just a sound though because the lights in her eyes were so bright she could not see anything else. She had always enjoyed watching Caesar's wide smile, his enthusiasm. His kind but excited nature almost made the games bearable. Almost.

Even when her name was chosen back home, she knew whatever the special treat from President Snow was going to be, it was not going to be for her. She was no one. Her skin was tan and slightly freckled, her body thin, from her work in the fields. Her hair was the color of wheat, caught the sun like it did, but it probably looked dingy under the fake lights of the capitol. Even her eyes were golden, with specks of green if you looked closely. Not that anyone ever did. She was Tilda Whitley from District 9. District 9 was nowhere.

They always died at the beginning of the games, minutes into the bloodbath that was the opening. The moment the countdown ended and the tributes went forward, the breaths of District 9 were held. The tributes were usually dead before they had to breathe again. Of course, every year the families silently hopped and prayed that this year it would be different. But, she supposed, it was good at least it was over for them early. Everyone else stayed up for hours, even days, all of them wishing their family would emerge victories when the odds were 24-1 they would die horribly. And everyone would see it.

That was maybe the worst part.

A red headed girl nudged Tilda's elbow. "Tilda?" Caesar asked, laughing tentatively. "In disbelief, my dear?"

There was a microphone in her face then, that brightly colored hair bending down towards her as he waited for her reply, glancing into the lights beyond which was the audience. "Uh," she faltered. "Yes."

Caesar laughed putting an arm around her. The crowd joined in, but in a good natured way.

"Now, Tilda, tell me." Caesar said. "Did you know _why_ your name was being drawn?"

Her own voice echoed back at her, sounding dumb. "We only knew that some of the girls, after the reaping, would have the chance to be chosen for a special treat from President Snow."

"Ha ha! Let's see, shall we?"

He turned them smoothly and Tilda saw the other girls being led off the stage as a giant screen behind her played clips of the drawing in each district. Some of them cried when their names were drawn, others glanced excitedly to their families, hoping to bring home some prize, maybe even food.

"Excellent!" They applauded. "Now, there are a lot of people here who are, I think it's fair to say, very jealous of you." He wagged his eyebrows. A few agreed. "The chance to be matched with Peeta Mellark." He put emphasis on the name. "Is quite a treat. He's a handsome young man, isn't he?"

Tilda began blushing immediately. They were facing the invisible audience again. She was the opposite, she felt, of Katniss Everdeen.

"Well, yes." She swallowed. "Of course."

"Ha, ha." The host laughed. "'Of course', yes. And you are very pretty yourself, isn't she folks?" Some people were good enough to applaud, a few boo-ed enviously. "I _love_ that glow from district nine!" He held her hand out cordially and the sound of approval grew. Her blush worsened.

Peeta Mellark, the victor of district 12, the heartbroken baker boy, star crossed lover, was probably watching this somewhere, vomiting.

"Now, you don't have a boyfriend at home we need to know about do you?" The interviewer half teased.

Now she was about to vomit. "No, not at all."

"Not at all? I find that hard to believe, a fit girl like you? Now, Tilda, it's been very nice meeting you, but you will be needed backstage. Soon, you will meet the champion, and we look forward to checking in with you two later in the games."

They shook hands, his smile broad and encouraging. She returned it, feeling a little less hollow inside. Again he held her hand up like a winner, then kissed it before someone came and led her away.

* * *

When Tilda was taken up some stairs, back further and further, up more stairs, and into a room, she was expecting to meet that strong blonde: Peeta. She did not expect to see President Snow enter the room in all his finery and pomp.

"Ms. Whitley." He acknowledged, fixing his cufflinks. "Nice to meet you."

She nodded, half bowing. "You too, sir."

"Pleased with your surprise?"

She nodded, frowning. She was not sure if she was supposed to be. The people waiting on Snow did not acknowledge her; he did not acknowledge them.

"Good." He tilted his head, taking a seat. "Please, sit down." He smiled, gesturing.

She sat on the white chair, her dress looking old and faded next to the fabric.

"Ms. Whitley, you have a little sister and brother, don't you?"

She swallowed. "Yes."

"And you had an older brother?"

She found it increasingly difficult to speak.

The tips of Snow's big, aged hands touched. He addressed her, all business. "I have it in my power to make sure that no one in your family ever gets reaped again."

Her eyes widened. So the games were rigged. It's something many people had thought of, but no one talked about. Well, recently they had, when Everdeen's sister was drawn twice. She was only old enough to have her name in twice. How was that possible? And what were the odds her lover was picked too? She was being punished. It did not take a genius to figure out why: she beat the games, in a way you weren't supposed to beat them. Most people just survived. She actually won. She figured out a way to get what she wanted.

Tilda calculated the situation quickly: Snow was pissed. This whole fixing Peeta's broken heart wouldn't just soften the tragedy of the games, distract people from the rumors of rebellion in outer districts, but it would also make Snow look good while the girl on fire either died or lost her boyfriend in the games.

But there was more. What did Snow want with her? If he was offering immunity, it must really be something.

"What do you need me to do?" She asked cautiously.

Snow smiled. It was almost nice. "You're a very smart girl, Ms. Whitley. What I need from you is partly not up to you. I need Peeta Mellark to fall in love with you. You can help with this, of course, but not too much. I can help with this, and I will. I think it will happen."

"But how—?"

He cut her off with reassurance. "The part where you do something for me comes after. I'll need you to go back to District 12 with Peeta after the games. When you get there, I will need some information. That is all."

"That's all?" Her stomach sunk as she said it. She knew something was wrong, could sense it as strongly as if he was a wolf stalking towards her, liking its frothing mouth. But she thought her family, far away, and of the way the games were rigged. She thought of her older brother dying in the arena, with every watching, or worse not watching, washing their hands, talking while blood dripped out of his lips and he struggled out those last few breaths.

She counted each one like it was precious. Her lanky, tiny body looking up at the screen in horror. One. Two. Three. Almost four, and that was it. He was dead. A canon fired. He was never going to carry her on his shoulders through the fields again. He was never going to hunt for her in the hay, or toss a cricket down her dress. He was not going to teach her anything else, like he had how to tie her shoes, or protect her from any school year bullies, or save her extras of the baked apples.

She felt a tear on her face and tried not to notice the look of satisfaction on the President's face. He had her, and he knew it. He didn't pick girls based on who was best for Peeta, if she had dared hope that; he picked people it would be easiest to get to do what he wanted.

She was weak.

Her mother had cried when she realized she was pregnant again, but birth control was so hard to get. At the time, Tilda had not understood why she was unhappy. Tilda loved helping with the babies—one boy, one girl. Their house was full until her older brother was reaped. Then he was dead. Then it was all over.

It happened very fast.

Her mother had an accident in the grain processing factory where she worked. They all suspected it was not an accident. Not really. She could have been careful, if she had tried. Or maybe she had been so distracted thinking of her son dying in the arena, to applause by the people betting against him, her hand had slipped and the machinery had pulled her in and crushed her to bits.

Another funeral.

Since then, Tilda had taken care of Graham and Daisy, her dad in the fields from dawn until dusk. He was sweet, too sweet maybe even for his life. He was gentle and quiet the few hours he was home, or maybe it was tired. The fields helped him, working with his hands, feeding people, being under an open sky. It was peaceful. It was where his son had loved to be.

His wife had not had that. She had stood on her feet, in a crowded place buzzing and ringing and screeching with machines and metal. Until there was an awful sound, until everything stopped. An accident.

Once Graham and Daisy were in school, Tilda went to work in the fields. She missed most of her education. She couldn't complain. The fields were safer.

"Enjoy your time in the Capitol, Ms. Whitley." Snow nodded to her.

After a moment, a moment in which she hated herself, she nodded too.

* * *

"What did they do to her?" Peeta jerked his hands from his hair, standing up again to pace.

"Well, I don't think they ate her. Calm down." Katniss told him.

"It's Snow." Gale said, twitching his lips. "I know it is."

"You're not helping." Haymitch held a hand up to Gale. "And you are not getting married. Relax." He told Peeta with his other hand in his direction.

At that moment, the door opened. Effie scooted in, not smiling very brightly. She cleared her throat and grinned as she presented awkwardly, "Welcome, Tilda Whitley."

The thin girl slipped in behind the woman with bright hair and big dress. They had put her in a new dress, Katniss saw at once, scrubbed her golden skin, ripped her hair out and painted on some makeup. The eyes looked ridiculous.

She looked timid, apologetic even, as if she wanted to say: It's just me. Sorry it's not more.

She probably was, Katniss thought. This girl was from an outlying district, like them. Nines had it rough.

Peeta stared at her, looking guilty like it was his fault. He seemed to have lost part of his brain.

Katniss rolled her eyes and sighed. "They dressed you up, didn't they?" She asked, darkly.

Tilda nodded. "This thing itches." She tugged at the tight fabric, hugging her form.

"Come on." The other girl stood, waving to the smaller one to follow her. "Let's get that crap off you so we can see what you actually look like."

Tilda snorted slightly, agreeing. She gave a small smile to Peeta and tried not to look at Gale as she passed.

* * *

A/N: I cannot wait to hear what you all thought of Tilda and of Snow's little plot. Do take a second to leave a review! It would improve my day greatly.


	5. The Winner

Disclaimer: Please see previous.

* * *

A/N: Enjoy a new, longer chapter. Please take a second to review!

* * *

Chapter Five: The Winner

Tilda was not expecting Katniss to be so kind or helpful. The Girl on Fire gently wet a rag and wiped off the ridiculous colors from the winner's face.

"You have pretty eyes." Katniss told her, looking very strong, pretty, and more human than she expected. It was strange to be up close to someone who had looked so…dangerous in the games, so scared at the reaping, and so elegant on the screen. Tilda now knew from experience how much work they put into that false appearance for the Capitol. Well, they probably had to do more to _her_ than the Katniss. Katniss' black hair was dark as a blackbird's feathers, almost blue, her skin fair, her muscle toned. The two could not have looked more different.

Tilda blinked several times. "Thanks."

Katniss rummaged in the closets, presumably for something more comfortable. She tossed a white sort of sundress at the Tilda after ripping off some giant cloth flower and bottom tassels.

Tilda caught it and stared at the bundle of linen for a moment. "Why are you helping me?"

Katniss turned around, surprised. "We're in the same boat. Sort of. You didn't have any choice is this." She shook her head. "They dressed you up and put you in a line like dolls. Snow's just using us. You know that, right?"

"Oh, I know." Tilda said, looking down at the dress. The other girl turned so she could change, switching on the screen to stand in the woods.

Then, Tilda blurted. She had a problem with blurting. It was when she was nervous or when she was thinking and did not know it was coming out of her mouth. "They're rigged."

"What?" Katniss wheeled around. "Sorry." She immediately covered her eyes as Tilda finished tugging on the fairly simple dress. Tilda did not care. She had long given up changing without someone small barging in and hungry or crying or yelling.

"Snow pretty much admitted the games were rigged sometimes," Tilda said as she tugged her long hair free from the dress. "As if there was any question after your reaping."

Fury crossed the victor's features. Having seen her drop a person like a deer, Tilda was almost afraid. "We shouldn't talk here." Katniss said, serious. "He's probably listening."

Tilda paled. She hoped she was wrong.

If Snow had heard her tell Katniss that, he'd be angry. Maybe she could pass it off as her approach to getting their trust. She picked self-consciously at the stiff, new garment as she followed the long, black braid back into the next room. She wasn't any more comfortable in her own skin than in it.

* * *

When Tilda emerged with Katniss from the room, Peeta stood. Partially, he was being polite and partially he was nervous. He had dressed in the simplest of their stupid attire; so had she, he saw. He wanted to thank Katniss for looking out for her, taking away the awkwardness of their meeting. This time, he was going to say something. The others stood respectfully to as she entered.

Katniss smiled slightly, nodding her forward. She liked her then; Peeta knew Katniss couldn't fake it with people. She had a keen sense too about them. Part of him wondered if she might be jealous of this girl or vice versa. He could see he was wrong.

He relaxed a little. "Hungry?" He invited.

Tilda nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears. The candlelight from the table, dancing off the chandelier, glimmered on her long, shiny locks. As she approached the seat next to him, he couldn't help that he noticed her long, slender legs, even though he glued his eyes to hers soft, gold ones.

She sat next to him, the rest of the table sitting as well.

Her eyes were wide on the food, and she tried not to enjoy herself too much or scarf it down as they began their meal. Peeta watched her chose her food carefully, knowing she would fill her stomach quickly.

"The cheesecake is good." He offered, pouring some gravy on his plate. Her eyes snapped to him and he was shocked by their golden color. They weren't even brown really, just gold. Inside, there were tiny but bright flecks of green, like someone had chipped an emerald. Light brown freckles dotted her nose and the corners of his eyes. He sipped his wind, realizing he was staring.

"Thanks." She said.

She smelled nice, Peeta noticed. He wanted to kick himself. Why was he in such a hurry to comply with Snow's wishes? Was he too stupid to know it wasn't meant to help him, it was meant to help Snow? No, he wasn't stupid. He must be desperate. Great.

"So Ms. Whitley," Haymitch began.

"Tilda." She corrected.

"Tilda," He nodded. "So you're from district nine. That's grain isn't it?"

She nodded, chewing. It was a lame conversation starter, Peeta thought, what your district produced.

"Yeah we, uh, saw District Nine on the victory tour, it's really pretty. Like an ocean of oats." He said.

She smiled tightly at her glass, not looking him in the eye.

Effie wiggled, clearly pleased with herself and her question: "What is your favorite grain?"

Tilda choked a little, taking a drink before she gave it a thought and answered: "Wheat?"

"Wheat?" Effie repeated, pretending to be entranced. "How wonderful. Our Peeta bakes, don't you Peeta?"

"Yeah." He wipped his mouth. "Yeah that's right."

"And do you have occasion to use wheat?" The word might as well have been foreign the way Effie pronounced it.

Peeta glanced at Tilda, who was trying to fight the smile. Gale wasn't. Katniss hid behind her glass. "Sure." He said.

"Like what?" Effie batted her eyelashes, thinking she was quite the conversationalist.

"Well," He said slowly. "You make flour with wheat, so … everything."

They all laughed. Effie looked disappointed as she returned to picking at her food, but strangely enough, she had succeeded in relaxing everyone into conversation.

"What about your family?" Gale asked. Peeta kicked himself for not thinking of that question.

Tilda paused a moment, stiffened a tiny bit next to him. Maybe the question was a sensitive one.

"They aren't in the games, are they?" Peeta demanded suddenly alarmed.

Tilda shook her head, and there was collective sigh of relief. "My dad works fields. I do too sometimes. My little brother and sister are in school. Not old enough to be reaped."

"Your mom?" Gale asked. Peeta shot him a look. She did not mention it for a reason.

"She was in a factory accident." Was all she said.

"I'm sorry." Gale offered.

"Thanks." Tilda mumbled— still not looking up at him, the baker noticed.

Conversation held off as long as possible from the games. Haymitch breeched the subject. "You need allies." He told Gale and Katniss. "You made a good impression in the Chariots. Tomorrow you will be interviewed."

"Yes! And I have your cards." Effie told them, handing them over. Peeta reached forward accidently.

"Back off, baker-boy." Gale joked, taking the cards. "My turn."

"Right." Peeta couldn't help but glance at Katniss.

She stared at her cards a minute. "Thanks, Effie." Katniss left the table.

Gale sighed. He finished his final bite, raised his eyebrows at his friends, and followed after her.

* * *

Tilda paced the length of her room. She imagined her family at home without her. Her father, tired, having to scrounge up some dinner for the twins as he was being filled in by Daisy and Graham on how she had been matched with the victor from District 12.

She could not even imagine their reaction. She thought the little kids would be excited for her, envious maybe even of her trip with fine foods and celebrities of the Capitol.

Giving up, she collapsed on the bed with a sigh.

It really was ridiculously rude to worry about herself when there were twenty four young people out there knowing they were going to enter the fight for their life. Poor Peeta had to sacrifice his tribute to save the love of his life who had rejected him—and it was clear he really did love her, though Tilda has always doubted the certainty of Katniss' affections in return. Her easy manner with Gale and his obvious dedication confirmed that. So did how sullen Peeta looked when they left the room together. Like he actually wished it were him going back in that arena.

There was no chance, she saw, certainly not under these circumstances and probably not under any other, that she could get him to fall in love with her. Snow had said he would help; whatever he was going to do, he had better do soon. How could Tilda from nine compete with the girl-on-fire? And when the other girl's life was in danger?

She closed her eyes, laying on her back, and tried to picture her family, the wheat fields, the corn. She tried to tell herself she just had to let it happen and then get back to 12 to get Snow whatever information it was he wanted. Then she could leave Peeta, unharmed, and no one ever need know.

The room started to shrink.

She salt bolt upright. She needed some air.

* * *

Peeta went up to the roof to see if Tilda was there. She had not been in her room or with Katniss—Gale was, pushing a loose strand of hair from her face as she talked. A willowy figure stood, barefoot, very close to the edge, looking down curiously at the city. He could hear them from there. He watched her a moment, arms folded.

Alone, not knowing she was being watched, she did not seem to be up to anything.

"Hi, there." He offered friendly. He did not move from his position a few paces behind her, hands behind him as she jumped at his presence.

"Hi." She said. The breeze above the Capitol caught her long, straight hair and fluttered it behind her like a flag. It pulled the fabric of her dress against the slight frame of her body. The lights from below illuminated her tan skin.

"That's two." He pointed at her a second.

"What?" Tilda shook her head, confused.

"That's two whole words you spoken to me since we met." He laughed, looking around and stepping forward. "You know I didn't have anything to do with this, right? It wasn't my idea or anything."

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear again. "I know. Sorry. It was kind of a surprise for me too."

"It's okay." He shrugged. "Let's try again. Hi, I'm Peeta Mellark."

He extended his hand. She did not take it right away, making his smile fall a little. Then she grinned, a really crafty little grin that spread like a pond disturbed. Her teeth glistened perfectly. "I know who you are, Peeta." She shook his hand more boyishly than he would have expected and with slightly roughed, slender fingers. He looked down. There was freckle there too, by her thin wrist. "I'm Tilda." She laughed.

"Hi, Tilda." He answered quietly, staring at her a moment.

She laughed again and let go of his hand. He dropped his and his eyes a moment. Was Snow using something in his food? Was he really so easy to win over? No girl in the village had caught his eye since the returned. No girl ever really had but Katniss.

Katniss: he reminded himself. His job in the Capitol was to get her out of the games alive. That was his focus.

But what to do with Tilda?

"You don't have to worry." Tilda said. "I'm not going to distract you. I know you have a tribute to watch out for."

"Yeah." He looked away.

"Unless, you can't." He eyed her. Did she get it? Did she know what he was going to have to do? Did everyone? "And it can't be easy, being back here for the games."

"I don't think it ever is."

"That why Haymitch drinks?" She was frank.

"I think so."

"Do you?"

"No." He said, surprised she asked.

"Good." She was serious, looking over the edge. "Can't have my future husband being a drunk."

He choked.

"I'm just kidding." She laughed with that wicked smile again, nearing him. He could smell her again on the wind. Something he liked but did not recognize. "Relax. I promise not to violate you."

"Well, uh," He stammered, clearing his throat. "I appreciate that." He tried to smile back. "I think."

She blushed. Oh god, had that been flirting? He had not mean to flirt.

"So tomorrow is training followed by the interviews?"

"That's right."

"Do you think anyone is listening up here?"

Her question startled him. "I don't think so. The wind and the noise." She got closer to him, making him shift. Was she going to kiss him? Her eyes, the light brown gold, caught some flicker of the city's bright light and he saw specks of bright green as if someone had chipped an emerald and the pieces fell into her iris. He opened his mouth to remark on it.

But close to him she murmured. "Snow wants me to spy on you."

Waves of shock, anger, and something like sadness washed over him. The wind his ears seemed loud. "Then why are you telling me?" He asked.

Tilda shrugged. "He knows where my family is."

"I understand." Peeta sighed.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry. You must be really disappointed." He looked down at himself with a shy smile. The cameras and the hype: he was just a poor boy from twelve. He wasn't big like Gale.

"No." Her words were just honest. He felt his skin chill. "Not at all. You're the one who got stuck with—"

Gale burst out onto the roof. "Peeta, I need your help." He panted.

* * *

Tilda tried not to think about how handsome Peeta was or how kind. Especially when he was trying his best, and with such a pain stricken expression on his face, to calm down Katniss.

The girl was as angry as a cat who had its tail stepped on then been dunked in water. Hey eyes were narrowed in anger, but they watered. Haymitch was trying to hold her back as she threw something a frightened-looking stylist.

"Cinna!" She screamed.

"Katniss, stop it." Peeta tried calmly, stepping in her way.

"Move Peeta!" She growled as he blocked her.

"No, Katniss stop." He put up his hands to dtill her, voice still gentle. "Just stop. It's not their fault. Now, what happened?"

She panted, defeated. Throwing down her household weapon, her voice broke. "Cinna. Snow was angry about the mockingjay costume. He had him killed."

"What?" Peeta was breathless.

"And he's not the only one." Gale's deep voice rumbled. "I heard today Seneca Crane wasn't just fired. He ate nightlock."

"It's my fault." Katniss breathed in horror.

"No." Peeta told her firmly, forcing her to look at him. "No it's not."

"He's right." Said Gale coming up behind her. He'd had enough of Peeta's help it seemed and pulled the calmed Katniss into his arms. Peeta gapped, suddenly useless.

The Girl on Fire didn't look brave to Tilda. She looked lost.

Tilda knew the feeling; she was cold all the way down to her fingers and toes. Snow had a man killed over the games, over a dress, and no one even heard about it. One accident in district nine would be easy to manage if she did not do what he wanted.

She knew he was powerful and not to be trusted, but she had no idea how dangerous the man really was.

"It was just a dress." Katniss said into Gale's shoulder with disbelief.

"It wasn't just a dress." Haymitch said. "It was a Mockingjay. Snow doesn't want you to become a symbol. Especially not that symbol."

"Why? The rebellion? I didn't try to lead some rebellion."

"Want to or not, that doesn't change the fact that it's happening. You saw the birds painted everywhere when we were on the train!" Haymitch said with urgency, but he did not go on further. He flicked back his hair, eyeing the people in the room. "Come on, let's get some sleep."

* * *

It had been a hell of a long day. Yesterday she had dropped the twins off with her neighbor and trudged over to the reaping. She was afraid to be picked, but she was not really expecting it to happen. She was already thinking about how she was going to catch up with her work when it was over.

There was more security than ever. Peacekeepers shoved people into the square where they gathered in between factories for the ceremony. They lined the ways, penning them inside. Even then, Tilda's mind was elsewhere. Daisy had a loose tooth. She would be behind on her field work and have to do extra and stay late to meet her quota.

She needed to get going. As soon as the names were called, she breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't hers and looked sympathetically up at the teens on the platform. Their victor, a male from years ago, volunteered for the skinny boy with the weak right leg.

Volunteering must be getting popular, she vaguely thought, already turning to go. She could understand. If Daisy got picked, she would volunteer. If Graham was reaped, she did not know what she'd do.

But the cameras went off, the announcer happily picking from another bowl, another name. Tilda had not been listening. Then, it was her name.

Everything after that happened quickly. She was on the train, getting handed sweets, congratulated, strange smiles from unfamiliar faces. She was practically snuck from a train into a hallway and led to a waiting room that filled with a dozen girls all who had different ideas about why they were there. Some were ecstatic, others kept bursting into tears. Tilda stayed quiet.

They were there for hours on clean, white couches until they were led down into what looked like hospital rooms to shower, wax, and be painted with layers of makeup. Form there, they were led awkwardly onto the stage to the familiar music of the Capitol Hunger Games broadcast. They each stood on their assigned "x" in the dark.

And since then she had met President Snow, Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen and Haymitch Abernathy, District twelve victors, and Gale Hawthorne who looked so much like her older brother had when he was reaped. So much so she could not look at him even when he spoke.

Then she'd met Peeta properly, on a roof no less, and even started to love his thin, bright smile, only to be interrupted by an anxious Gale to see Katniss trashing a room in a rage when the stylists arrived and gave her the bad news about her stylist who she apparently very attached to, and she lost it.

Haymitch less than subtly sent everyone to bed. After such a day, sleep came easy. Tilda was asleep the moment she hit the fresh sheets and soft pillow of the Capitol bed.

But she did not stay asleep. Her room, she noticed as they went back to bed, was next to Peeta's. His room was next to Katniss' whose was next to Gale's. Sometime in the night, Tilda woke suddenly. She heard someone screaming.

It was Peeta.

She was not sure how she knew. But she knew.

Katniss should have heard him first, but Tilda guessed she was one room over because her bed was empty. The screams were frantic, pained, almost moaning. Pausing outside the door, chewing her lip, Tilda hesitated a moment before launching herself in the room.

* * *

A/N: Well, I'd love to hear what you think so far. What do you want to see next and what do you NOT want to see? What did you enjoy? Please review. Thanks for reading.

Yours,

Elsie


End file.
